


Finding Hermione After The Yule Ball

by PTwritesmore



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bisexual Ginny Weasley, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas with Harmony, Discord: HMS Harmony, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fremione Fanatics' Yule Fest 2020, Friends to Lovers, Gryffindor Tower, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Era, Lesbian Pansy Parkinson, POV Hermione Granger, Rare Pairings, Romance, Supportive Ron Weasley, Yule, Yule Ball (Harry Potter), dramione - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:00:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27827920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PTwritesmore/pseuds/PTwritesmore
Summary: Ever wonder how different characters would act if they found Hermione Granger crying alone after the Yule Ball? Inspired by a tiktok about how HP characters would react walking in on you changing and the fact that so many Hermione fics start the night of the Yule Ball.These are all romantic pairings and the chapter is named for the other half of the pair. Just a bit of holiday "what if" fun. Hope you enjoy!
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Fred Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Neville Longbottom, Hermione Granger/Pansy Parkinson, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 97
Kudos: 275





	1. Fred

"Next time there's a ball, ask me before someone else does, and not as a last resort!" Hermione screamed back at Ron, twirling on her heel and stalking away from the red-face ginger. The sounds of the Weird Sisters performing in the Great Hall followed her up the stairs, drowning out Ron’s angry muttering behind her. Unfortunately, the staircase she chose just started moving, taking her further from Gryffindor Tower. Unwavering, she marched up the stairs and rounded the first corner before sliding down the stone wall and sobbing into her hands.

Hermione felt deflated by her best friend’s nasty comments. Ron Weasley had ruined her Cinderella moment and turned her into a crying pumpkin. She choked on a laugh between her sobs at the thought of it. She may be in a castle, but the Yule Ball was no fairytale.

“Alright there, Granger?” a soft voice pulled her back to reality. She didn’t want to look at whoever was standing above her. The evening itself had been mortifying enough, but to be caught crying and forced to talk about it was too much. Hermione just nodded from behind her hands, refusing to look up and acknowledging the inquiring party. “Right...” the vaguely familiar voice said, and she could hear the boy shifting on his feet, likely debating what to do.

She was surprised when she felt the presence sit down next to her, his warm body ghosting her’s by just a few centimeters. She snuck a sideways look to see who this intrusive boy could be when a shock of red hair caught her eye. Hermione’s head shot up in anger, gearing up for round two with her insensitive best friend. Instead a different Weasley started at her movement, one of the twins looking like he wanted to bolt under her withering glare. Fred, she realized as she relaxed and looked him over.

“Sorry, Fred,” Hermione muttered, looking at her knees as she hugged them into her chest.

“It’s ok, Hermione. Glad I’m not whoever pissed you off though.”

Hermione barked out a humorless laugh. “Me too.”

“Need me to have a word with Krum?”

“Oh,” Hermione coughed to cover her surprise at his kindness. She expected a bad joke. But both the twins had been protective of her before, she realized, thinking of the mudblood incident second year. Protective of their little brother’s best friend. “No, thank you. He was lovely, actually. He didn’t - we didn’t - it was Ron.”

“That git,” Fred rolled his eyes. “Hard to live up to the legacy of his older brother, infamous ladies man.”

“Yes, I’m sure it is hard for all of you dealing with Bill’s reputation,” Hermione said nonchalantly. Fred gave a scoff of faux outrage before turning serious.

“What did he do to make a girl cry that isn't even his date?”

“Speaking of dates,” Hermione jumped quickly to change the focused away from herself, “you don’t have to sit here with me. Your date is probably missing you.” Instead of his usual quick quip, Fred’s shoulders slumped and he looked down the hallway, avoiding her eyes. Hermione felt a pang of guilt that she’d made the usually joyful boy so glum.

“Bad night for you too?” Hermione asked gently, placing a hand tentatively on his arm, which a part of her brain catalogued as being bigger than she realized.

“Turns out she’s had a thing for George. As much as people seem to believe it, you can’t substitute one twin for the other.”

“I’m so sorry, Fred,” Hermione pulled the boy into an awkward side hug. After a moment, he shifted and gave her a deeper hug back. She wasn’t sure if she should ask him how he was feeling about George, worried about upsetting him more.

“I have a feeling I’ll be ok,” he muttered over her shoulder, sounding a bit happier now. “Want to see something?”

“I don’t know,” Hermione said cautiously, breaking their embrace to study him. A smile had split his face and a mischievous look Hermione knew to be cautious of twinkled in his coffee eyes. “Oh, not with that look, Weasley! I can’t handle a trick tonight!”

“Oh you wound me, Miss Granger,” Fred’s hands flew to chest in mock indignation. “Humor me, ‘Mione,” he whispered, his gravelly voice prompting a shiver to run down Hermione’s spine. Surprised by her reaction, Hermione simply nodded at him.

As Fred reached into his pocket, Hermione flinched, causing Fred to emit a low chuckle. He brought out a black wand, one that Hermione recognized from her childhood.

“A muggle magician's wand?” Hermione asked suspiciously, worried about what nonsense she’d signed up for. She silently begged that it do nothing to the hair she’s spent too long fixing, recalling the conditioner incident at the Burrow several years prior that made her hair look as though she’d been electrocuted.

“5 points to Gryffindor,” he said cheekily, spinning the wand between two fingers. “Now for the demonstration portion of the evening.”

“Fred, wh-” Fred cut her off with a disapproving finger wagging in her face.

“Now, Miss Granger, I’m taking those 5 points back from Gryffindor for interrupting,” Fred tried to sound stern, but the corners of his mouth turned up. He tapped the wand on her nose before waving his hand in front of the wand. “Brighter than a buttercup, sweeter than any sorbet, give this witch a beautiful bouquet.” The wand transformed into a bouquet of fake flowers. “M’lady,” Fred gave an overexaggerated bow from his seated position before handing the flowers to Hermione, who was giggling like mad.

“That is a muggle trick!” Hermione squealed as she accepted the flowers. “Where did you get this?”

“Dad confiscated a muggle magic kit from work this summer and I thought it’d be a good laugh. George and I have been using it all term to prank folks. Saved the best for the best though,” he said as he gave her a flirty wink.

“It is brilliant,” Hermione said, looking at the bouquet in her hand.

“If I had known birds liked this kind of trick, I would’ve turned everything into flowers years ago!” Hermione shook her head, laughing in spite of herself. When he flashed her a smile as he took the flowers back to stash the wand again, Hermione realized he’d pulled her from her funk.

“Thanks for distracting me, Fred.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” he said with a gentle smile.

They sat in silence for a moment, letting the music from the Great Hall float up towards them and swirl around the pair. Slowly Hermione closed her eyes and felt herself sway slightly to the beat.

“Fancy a dance?”

“Dance?” Hermione stopped and stole a glance at him.

“You’re halfway there right now, you know,” he bumped her shoulder with his. “We could stand up and let your feet join the party.”

“You want to dance with me?”

“Do I want to dance with the prettiest girl of the night? I’d say so,” Fred said eagerly.

“Oh, Fred, stop,” Hermione looked at the stone floor. She knew he was just saying that, making his little brother’s pathetic friend feel better.

“I’m serious. Hermione, you look even more beautiful than normal. My brother is an idiot for depriving the rest of the school. Dance with me here,” Fred said, standing and offering his hand to her.

Hermione felt her cheeks flush. Viktor had told her she was beautiful earlier, but his words didn’t make her heart quicken like Fred’s did. She looked up at him, considering him before tentatively sliding her hand into his. As soon her petite fingers grabbed his hand, he pulled her up with enthusiasm, a lopsided grin on his face.

He wrapped his arm around her, his hand on her lower back. She rested her free hand lightly on his shoulder and took the stiff form that McGongall taught them earlier that week.

Fred started leading them, acting overly pompous and proper with his nose up in the air. As she followed in the rise and fall of the waltz, Hermione found herself giggling as Fred started acting more and more ridiculous. He stepped them out at the wrong time, twirling and dipping her move after move until that was most of what they were doing. As the song ended, he too broke into laughter. As the song changed to a slower one, Hermione expected their silly dance routine was done and dropped her hands from him.

“You haven’t let them humble magician give a grand finale,” he whispered into her ear, grabbing her wrist as she moved it. He pulled his arm around her neck with a cheeky grin. Her breath caught as he encircled her waist with his arms, pulling her close to him. He began to sway back and forth to the beat. She chewed her bottom lip, trying to place the giddy feeling bubbling up in her chest as she looked into his eyes. She rested her head against Fred’s chest, who in turn rested his chin on her head. They swayed silently in each other’s arms for two more songs.

“Ahem,” a feminine cough from down the hallway pulled the pair apart. “Students shouldn’t be out here this time of night. Mr. Weasley, I can’t say I am surprised to see you out of bounds after the dance curfew ended, but to corrupt Miss Granger,” Professor Sprout tutted sternly, though it did not conceal the amusement in her voice. “Now back to your dorm before I take points.”

“Shall I escort you back to the Tower?” Fred offered his arm. Hermione looped her arm through his as they started walking towards their dorm.

“I can’t believe she didn’t take points,” Hermione whispered, throwing a glance behind them into the hallway Sprout was walking the opposite way down.

“She never does,” Fred shrugged. “Sprout likes a good prank, you know. She typically only gives George and me a warning if she catches us doing anything. But I think tonight she thought it was funny to catch the incorruptible in my arms.”

“Do you think this means I won’t be a prefect next year?” Hermione was suddenly pulled back to earth, her usual anxiety wrapping its dark tendrils around her chest and throat.

“Hermione, relax. I don’t think there is a world where you won’t be a prefect,” Fred waved her worries away. “It’s not like you’re going to start pranking anyone.”

“Well, you never know. You are a terrible influence,” Hermione returned his smile, his calm melting her apprehension.

“Like you don’t like being a little corrupted,” Fred challenged, slinging an arm around her and leaning in conspiratorially.

“I think you just like corrupting your little brother’s friends,” Hermione teased back.

“You’re more than that, Hermione. You’re my friend too. Right?” Fred looked anxious, that earlier easiness slipping from him quickly.

“Erm, yeah, I know,” Hermione mumbled. Neither of them added anything, slipping into silence. After a few minutes of turning over Fred’s behavior in her head, they’d nearly reached the portrait hole and Hermione didn’t want their night to end yet. She grabbed his hand and pulled them both to a stop.

“Wait, I -” Hermione started, not sure where she was going with the sentence. Fred looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to say something. As the moment stretched out between him, he quirked a ginger eyebrow in amusement. The corners of his lips started to turn up and Hermione felt herself staring at his pink mouth. Glancing back at his eyes, Fred now wore at look of bewilderment.

“Sod it, grand finale” Hermione muttered, pushing the rising anxiety down with force and launching herself onto her tiptoes. She caught the corner of Fred’s mouth, which moved into a wide smile. She pulled back from the chaste kiss, eyes trained to the floor in embarrassment. What did she just do? But before the overworked gears of her brain started to turn, Fred’s hands quickly grabbed her by the waist and pulled her close to him. One hand moved to cup her chin and raise it as he bent down to meet her lips again. His mouth pressed into her’s, soft and hard together. Hermione could feel her heart beating so hard, she thought it might jump out of her chest. She snaked her arms around his neck and tangled her fingers into his fine red hair at the nape of his neck.

They broke apart when they heard two loud whoots behind them. Hermione peered over Fred’s shoulder to see Lee and Katie Bell cheering before walking through the portrait hole.

“Er - sorry about them,” Fred blushed beneath his freckles, as he rubbed the back of his neck. Hermione had never seen him blush before, but she quite liked it.

“Oh no,” Fred suddenly groaned, making Hermione’s heart sink. Did she just make a terrible mistake? Did he regret the kiss? “I’m going to have to thank ickle Ronnikins for the best snog of my life,” he dragged his hands down in face.

“Best snog, you said?” Hermione asked, secretly thankful for those stupid magazines Lavander and Pavarti piled up in their room. Studying technique always helped practical application - even with snogging, apparently.

“Well, to date. We could always try again...maybe tomorrow?”

“Perhaps,” Hermione felt herself blushing again. “Thanks for saving the Yule Ball for me.”

“Well, I am a magician,” Fred winked at her as they walked hand in hand through the portrait hole. Hermione smiled up at him before seeing Harry and Ron staring at them, jaws open, from the common room couch. Harry, as usual, looked confused, but Ron was red-faced and seething.

“Goodnight, Fred” she whispered as she pressed a kiss into his cheek, disappointed to end their evening, but eager to avoid another encounter with Ron tonight.

“Goodnight, beautiful,” Fred beamed at her before grabbing her hand and kissing her knuckles as he bowed deeply. Hermione rolled her eyes goodnaturedly before turning towards the stairs. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Ron jump up and stalk towards Fred with closed fists.

“Oh Ronniekins, thank you, thank you!” Fred’s sing-songing voice floated up to her, surrounding her like their earlier embrace.

“Put me down, you wanker!” she heard Ron yell, making her chuckle. She’d deal with all the boys tomorrow. Tonight, she was ready to sleep.

Hermione climbed the stairs to her dorm room, feeling like she’d just found her glass slipper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want more holiday Fremione? I just posted a little Christmas one shot called Escaping Fred Weasley's Magical Mistletoe :)


	2. Draco

"Next time there's a ball, ask me before someone else does, and not as a last resort!" Hermione screamed back at Ron, twirling on her heel and stalking away from the red-face ginger. The sounds of the Weird Sisters performing in the Great Hall followed her up the stairs, drowning out Ron’s angry muttering behind her. Unfortunately, the staircase she chose just started moving, taking her further from Gryffindor Tower. Unwavering, she marched up the stairs and rounded the first corner before sliding down the stone wall and sobbing into her hands. 

Crumpled to the floor and hugging her knees, Hermione tried to silently count to herself, a feeble attempt to calm down. It was a trick her mother taught her as a young child when she’d get upset. Normally, it would work. She’d hear the tens instead of Lavender and Pavarti giggling on a weeknight before a test, or the hundreds instead of Malfoy’s slurs, and her emotions would settle. But tonight, Ron’s beet red face kept popping up, yelling over her numbers and making her cry harder. She wasn’t sure how long she was there before a harsh voice called out to her from down the hallway. 

“Granger?” She winced, too familiar with her name when said by that voice. She looked up to see a pale wizard in black velvet robes walking towards her, his lips set in a thin line. 

“What do you want Malfoy?” Hermione sniffed, choking back her tears to avoid letting Malfoy see her cry. “Here to laugh at me? To hex me?” She spat out as he loomed over her. 

“What? No!” Draco ran his hand through his slicked back blond hair, a move Hermione hadn’t seen him make before. “I just - I heard a crying girl on my way back to the dorms. I wanted to make sure she - you were okay.” Draco’s voice was gentle, a tone she’d never heard from him before. Hermione wondered if this might be Harry under polyjuice instead of the real Draco Malfoy because the alternative seemed more outrageous. 

“That seems unlike you,” Hermione said suspiciously, knowing this hallway was not on the way back to the dungeons from the Great Hall. 

“Well, I think it is safe to say you don’t know me very well,” Draco scoffed, rolling his eyes. “So are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Okay, Granger. Honestly, aren’t you supposed to be the smartest witch in the school?” Draco leaned casually against the stone wall, eyes narrowed at her as he studied her face. Hermione suddenly felt self-conscious of how she must look, his gaze reminding her of how her eyes must be red-rimmed and her cheeks tear-stained. 

“Erm -yeah, I’m fine,” Hermione cocked her head to the side, waiting for the other shoe to drop. This was possibly their longest conversation ever, and certainly their most civil. 

“Did Krum do this?” The venom now back in his tone was much more familiar to her. 

“No, he was a perfect gentleman,” Hermione said, worried this conversation would be a repeat of her earlier fight. Only it would be with someone who hated her, and who she hated too. “But Ron didn’t see it that way. He accused me of fraternizing with the enemy.” As she mentioned Ron’s name, Draco relaxed and let out a bark of humorless laughter.

“Of course. Only the Weasel would be dim enough to say that,” Draco smirked down at her. She instinctively opened her mouth to defend her best friend, but closed it and glared at him instead. 

“I’m so glad this is amusing to you,” she huffed, hugging herself and looking down the hallway, away from him. “Are you just going to stay here and make me feel worse?”

She waited for a response as she looked into the darkness, but none came. Was he trying to come up with something horrid to say? Or had he turned and left? After nearly a full minute, she couldn’t take it anymore and turned her head back up to him. He was watching her intently, his face still indifferent. Hermione held his eye contact, mirroring his mask, until he finally spoke. 

“Actually, I have an idea to make your night better,” Draco spoke cautiously, careful as he offered up each word.

“And what would that be?” 

“Why not fraternize with the real enemy?” The corners of Draco’s mouth turned up slightly as he held out his hand to her. 

“So you’ll be nice to me now and then what? Embarrass me later? Even you aren’t that cruel, surely,” Hermione said as she ignored his outstretched hand. She gathered her skirts and stood slowly, careful to avoid standing on the edges of her dress. He was silent for a beat, dropping his hand and still watching her. 

“You think I’m cruel then?” 

“Is that even a question? Those Potter Stinks badges speak for themselves,” Hermione scoffed, sticking a finger to his chest. “Not to mention every name, every hex, every rude comment.” She poked him with each slight, prompting a smirk to appear on his face.

“Then let me play the villain tonight too,” Draco whispered, grabbing her wrist to make her stop and holding it tightly. She felt a shiver down her spine at his touch. “Let me make your night worth the trouble, instead of you wallowing in wasted tears in an empty hallway.” Hermione realized he was close enough that she could smell his spiced cologne. 

“And if you’re the real enemy, the villain, what would that make me? A damsel in distress?” Her question dripped with contempt, but she found she didn’t want to step away. 

“I’d never dare to presume, but the dress would indicate damsel, and the crying would suggest distress.” She rolled her eyes as his grin grew wolfish. Hermione examined his lips and their twisted mirth, wondering if she could even recall a single memory of him smiling like this while looking in her direction. She realized he must have noticed her staring because he dropped her wrist and gently moved his arms down to grasp her waist. When she gasped at the embrace, he took the opportunity to push his lips to her parted ones. Hermione stood frozen for a moment before letting her eyes float closed and kissing him back. Taking her participation as an invitation, Draco pulled her tighter into him and backed her up to the cold stone wall. 

She quickly realized that this was markedly different from Viktor’s chaste kiss when she accepted his invitation to the Yule Ball. Draco kissed her with the same venom he usually spoke to her with; his mouth was brash, his lips savage, his tongue unforgiving. But this wasn’t hatred, she didn’t think. No, it was hunger. And Hermione found herself starving too, her hands searching his hair, her tongue his mouth, her body his form, all unable to satiate her. 

As they split, both taking shallow breaths, Hermione felt a tingle lingering on her lips. Draco leaned into the wall with one hand, staring down at her with an intensity she found she liked. He kept his other hand around her waist, tucked closely to him. She looked back up at him, silent, taking in each detail of his face. She wanted to commit it all to memory, his cloudy eyes, the light pink flush across his pale cheeks, his pout pink with her lipstick. As she looked down at his outfit to catalogue that too, she failed to stifle a giggle. 

“Something funny, Granger?” Draco sounded mildly put out by her laughter.

“It’s just - you look a bit like a vicar in that outfit. It is the white collar I think.”

“A what?”

“A muggle thing, it's nothing. Just not exactly villain wear,” Hermione said, grinning lopsidedly. He pursed his lips, but said nothing. His face morphed back into the cold mask she was used to, reminding her of exactly who she was with. Suddenly she was horrified. Hermione had let Draco Malfoy kiss her! The bigoted boy who mocked her appearance, made her teeth grow, and thought of her as less than because of her blood. Draco Malfoy, who her best friends hated. What would Ron scream if he saw this? Or worse, what would Harry say? She pushed Draco back from her, anger rising in her chest with each thought. 

“So now what?” She asked as she glared at him. “You run to tell your friends you snogged the mudblood?”

Draco sneered, taking a step back from her as though she were spitting fire at him with each word. He kept his eyes on her and she could see he was internally debating what he’d say next. She anticipated an insult, a malicious joke at her expense, a slur. 

“Granger, why do you think I warned you in the forest?” Hermione started at his non sequitur, not expecting the question or his even, yet irritated tone. 

“What? What forest?”

“At the World Cup,” he said slowly, like he was talking to Crabbe or Goyle. “Why do you think I followed you and warned you to hide?”

“You didn’t warn me!” Hermione yelled, outraged by just the memory of his appearing in the forest and intimidating her as they escaped a terrorist attack. “You threatened me, you mocked me, you called me a- .”

“I warned you,” Draco cut her off with a pointed look, his voice still calm. “I warned you the only way I knew how. I waited and followed you all to make sure you’d be okay.”

“Why did you do that?” Hermione asked quietly, wary that he was lying. 

“I don’t know! Or I didn’t,” Draco said before releasing a heavy sigh, “until tonight.”

“Toni-” Hermione was cut off as Draco took two quick strides toward her and kissed her again. This time his kiss was slow and gentle, but she still felt the same frantic thumping of heart, the same heat flush across her chest and crawl up her neck.

“Say the word, and I’ll happily be the villain again,” Draco whispered hoarsely, his lips ghosting her’s. He stood up straight, smoothing the sleeves of his dress robe, before looking smug and stiff again. “Best run back to the tower, damsel. Don’t think your knights would like you getting too comfortable with the dragon.” While his face was neutral, Hermione could now hear the humor in his voice and see the mischief in his eyes. She wondered if it had been there the whole time, lurking undiscovered beneath his surface, or if this was a new development, a fire sparked by their kiss. 

“I- I actually don’t think you’re a villain,” Hermione whispered, surprising herself as she spoke. “Or the enemy, not really.”

“Like I said earlier, you don’t know me very well,” Draco said lowly, his gaze lingering on her just a moment longer before he walked past her and down the hallway towards the dungeons. She waited until he turned the corner before her fingers flew to her lips, outlining where his had been. Hermione wondered if she could find him again, this Draco, or if he’d never resurface from deep below his iron mask.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You got sweet with Fred and now a little bit of spice with Draco. Normally I don't enjoy writing Draco this smooth (see my other works - I prefer him when he is a bit of a mess, #relatable), but this work called for something a little different. Not everyone can be slow and sweet when we play out the same scene different ways! Also it is Christmas, so here's suave Draco as a treat. I love hearing your thoughts, so please leave a comment if you have any :)
> 
> If you're a fellow Dramione stan and Christmas fan, I also have a multi-chapter Christmas Dramione story called Chestnuts Roasting Over the Open Firewhiskey you may enjoy! It will be finished on Christmas Day :)


	3. Ginny

"Next time there's a ball, ask me before someone else does, and not as a last resort!" Hermione screamed back at Ron, twirling on her heel and stalking away from the red-face ginger. The sounds of the Weird Sisters performing in the Great Hall followed her up the stairs, drowning out Ron’s angry muttering behind her. Unfortunately, the staircase she chose just started moving, taking her further from Gryffindor Tower. Unwavering, she marched up the stairs and rounded the first corner before sliding down the stone wall and sobbing into her hands. 

“Hermione!” Ginny yelled from the staircase, startling Hermione. She lifted her head to see the panting redhead standing over her, still holding fistfuls of her dress robes. “Hermione, are you okay?”

Hermione shook her head silently as her friend took a seat next to her. Ginny’s red eyebrows pinched in concern as she watched her. Hermione let out a strangled sob and, feeling ridiculous at being caught crying like this, turned her head back into her hands. 

“Oh, Hermione, I’m so sorry. I saw you running away and Ron spitting mad. What did my idiot brother do now?” Ginny wrapped her arms around Hermione’s shoulders, pulling her close until Hermione’s sobs subsided. Hermione was self-conscious of how red her face must be, of how ridiculous she must seem, of the flips her stomach was doing when Ginny touched her. To ignore it all, she started to talk. 

“He was perfectly horrid all night, Ginny,” Hermione sniffed, her voice a touch hoarse from yelling at Ron. “He accused me of fraternizing with the enemy - calling Victor the enemy, I mean really - and he called me a traitor. Then he came up behind me while I was getting some air and Viktor was getting us drinks. We got into a terrible fight.”

“I saw that part,” Ginny said as she rubbed circles in Hermione’s back. “Should I bat-bogey hex him?

“Maybe,” Hermione said with a noncommittal shrug. “This whole event is about improving international relations and I - I just don’t understand why -”

“He just wanted to take you himself, you know,” Ginny shook her head at her brother’s stupidity, shooting Hermione an apologetic look. “Not that that is an excuse.”

“Then why didn’t he ask me?” Hermione looked up at Ginny, angrily wiping the tears from cheeks.

“I mean, did you want to go with Ron? You were so excited when Viktor asked you.”

“I was excited. And Viktor was a perfect gentleman tonight,” Hermione shrugged, feeling frustrated by getting so upset when her date had been so nice to her. Now she was crying in a hallway over a different boy. “It’s just - why am I always viewed as the backup option? I’m a girl, I have my own life, separate from Ron and Harry. They just don’t see me that way.”

“They are oblivious gits, obviously,” Ginny sighed. “I think you definitely showed them both you are a girl tonight though. You look stunning.”

“Thank you. And thank you for helping me get ready, by the way. You were a miracle worker with my hair. I actually feel...pretty for once.”

“Hermione,” Ginny grabbed Hermione’s hands and stared at her with a solemn look Hermione rarely saw her friend wear. “You are always pretty.”

“Thanks Ginny,” Hermione said, her tone prompting Ginny to roll her eyes. Clearly her friend could tell she didn’t believe the compliment, but Hermione was thankful she did not decide to press it. Silence stretched between the two girls before Hermione cleared her throat and asked as cheerfully as she could, “How was dancing with Neville?” 

“Actually, great,” Ginny smiled widely. “He is a talented dancer. And we both had a lot of fun, it was nice with no pressure.” Hermione nodded, the mental image of Neville and Ginny gracefully waltzing on the dance floor making the brunette grin. “I feel terrible though. I left him just outside the Great Hall when I came chasing after you.”

“Oh Merlin, Ginny. I didn’t mean to keep you!” Hermione exclaimed, guilty that she’d taken her friend away from the merriment of the evening. “The music is still going. Why don’t you go back down and find him?”

“I’m not leaving you,” Ginny whispered, squeezing Hermione’s hands. 

“I appreciate the thought, but I am fine now. Thank you for listening.”

“Neville will be fine too.”

“I can’t take you away from the ball! This is a once in a lifetime experience and here you are sitting with me on the floor. I don’t want to ruin your evening.”

“You aren’t ruining it, Hermione. It was a fine dance, I had a good time. I just didn’t get to go with the person I wanted to.”

“Harry? Ginny I thought -”

“No, not Harry. I mean, that would’ve been nice too, sure. But I took what you said seriously - I am interested in dating other people and figuring myself out first. No, this person came with someone else. Got a date basically immediately.”

“Well, are you going to tell me who it is?”

“No!” a pink flush crawled across Ginny’s cheeks, a sight Hermione hadn’t seen since Ginny mooned over Harry quit mooning over Harry. Ginny had become so much more than that silent first year - she was spunky, brave, and nearly impossible to embarrass unless it was being done by a Weasley. 

“Ginny! Surely you’re not holding out after needling me for every detail of any boy interaction. I think it is time for you to reciprocate.” Ginny shook her head, avoiding Hermione’s gaze. “My money's on an older Gryffindor. Maybe...Dean?”

“No! No, not Dean. He is cute, but no. ”

“Ginny, it’s ok. I’m just teasing. You don’t have to tell me.”

“I- well I don’t think this person likes me back. Or even could.”

“Anyone who couldn’t like you back would be blind Ginny. You’re a catch!”

“Do you really think that?” Ginny visibly brightened, making Hermione smile. 

“Certainly. I think you should just tell the boy and get it over with. Either he’ll like you or he won’t and then you can go from there.”

Ginny took a deep breath, raising her eyes skyward for a moment in thought. Hermione watched her friend in anticipation, wondering which boy would no doubt become Ginny’s boyfriend by next term. 

“Hermione, you remember the World Cup? The truth or dare game we played that first night?” Ginny’s voice was soft, her questions tentative. 

“Oh, don’t remind me! I am never playing that game with Fred or George again,” Hermione groaned while Ginny chuckled. “I can’t believe Ron got the pair of them to streak.”

“The unbelievable part is that they didn’t get caught!” Ginny was fully laughing now, with Hermione begrudgingly chuckling with her. 

“The unbelievable part was when they tried to get me to join them!” Hermione said shrilly, still scandalized. 

“I’m related to a bunch of prats, what can I say?” Ginny replied, her giggles fading. “But when they dared you to kiss the most attractive person in the room and you kissed me, I was shocked. I figured it was because you didn’t want to kiss any of the boys there, even though Cedric is - well - Cedric.” The two girls shared a knowing glance. “But when you did, it made me realize something -” 

“That I am a terrible kisser?” Hermione joked. “What does this have to do with the boy? Is it Cedric?” Hermione gasped, now understanding Ginny when she said the boy couldn’t like her back. That was too big of an age gap. 

“No! Again, handsome, but no.” Ginny took a deep breath. “I realized that I did not mind kissing a girl,” Ginny exhaled hard as she said it, like she was setting down something heavy. “I liked it, actually,” Ginny added in a much smaller voice, her eyes on the stone floor. 

“Oh, Ginny,” Hermione said as she patted her friend’s hand. “Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me that. I know it can be hard to -”

“I’m not done,” Ginny held up a hand to stop Hemione, a gesture Hermione knew she picked up from Harry. Ginny looked up at Hermione, her amber eyes shining in the dim light, hesitant and guarded. “I didn’t just like kissing a girl, I liked kissing you.”

“Oh,” Hermione breathed. She stared into the darkness of the hallways in front of her, turning Ginny’s statement around in her mind. That night had been full of laughter, butterbeer, a binding swear of secrecy, and escalating embarrassing dares for the entire group. When the twins dared her to kiss the most attractive person in the room, she’d panicked. She knew everyone expected her to kiss Cedric, including Cedric, who she noticed paled a bit at the question. It hurt a bit to see someone so clearly uninterested in kissing her, but she understood that she was no great beauty. 

Without Cedric, she was limited in her choices of who to kiss. If she kissed either twin, she’d never hear the end of it, their egos prone to inflating over any witch’s attention. If she kissed Ron, their delicate friendship would certainly be impacted. The twins would never let them hear the end of it on that front either. Harry had already passed out prior to the game starting, so he was out of the running. Which only left Ginny. 

As she started towards Ginny, Hermione had realized that the ginger was an objectively attractive girl. Athletic, thin, and charmingly mischievous, there was no question that she’d start receiving a lot of male attention when school started back up. At the time Hermione had mouthed “sorry,” hoping her friend would understand why she picked her. But as their lips came together in a chaste kiss, Hermione felt a flutter in her stomach that had been absent in her first kiss, with the neighbor boy the summer before. As they broke apart, the twins booed, Ron groaned at watching his sister kiss anyone, and Cedric looked thankful. But Ginny seemed shellshocked for a moment, her face blank before smiling widely at Hermione. Hermione had taken that as a sign that her loophole had been okay with Ginny and they never spoke of it again. But Hermione had thought of their kiss often in the past few months, usually catching herself and pushing the memory out of her head as quickly as possible. 

“I can go,” Ginny said softly, breaking Hermione’s racing thoughts. Hermione realized that she must’ve been silent for a few minutes following Ginny’s confession, abandoning her for her own thoughts. Hermione chewed her lip for a moment before she noticed Ginny starting to stand up. 

“No,” Hermione grabbed Ginny’s slender wrist and pulled her back to the floor. “Wait, just wait. This is a lot of information to process.”

Hermione propped herself up on her knees and leaned over to face Ginny. The girl was looking anxiously at Hermione, unsure of what she was doing. Hermione cupped Ginny’s cheek, causing the girl to turn pink again. Slowly she leaned in and pressed her lips softly onto Ginny’s. That same familiar flutter in her stomach returned, but magnified. She could feel the corners of Ginny’s mouth turn up as the girl returned the kiss, deepening it. Hermione felt heat on the back of her neck and smelled lavender with each breath.r. After a few moments, Hermione broke their embrace and studied Ginny. 

“I’ve been focused on the wrong Weasley all night,” Hermione whispered, looking into her amber eyes. Ginny beamed in response, and Hermione learned she didn’t need to be touching Ginny’s lips for them to set off those somersaults in her stomach. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is close to my heart because Ginny has always given me big bi girl energy. Also, while I love the outspoken, confident gal we see in her 4th year on, I wanted to reflect a bit of Ginny's shy side with a crush. A least at this age lol. Hope you like it!


	4. Harry

"Next time there's a ball, ask me before someone else does, and not as a last resort!" Hermione screamed back at Ron, twirling on her heel and stalking away from the red-face ginger. The sounds of the Weird Sisters performing in the Great Hall followed her up the stairs, drowning out Ron’s angry muttering behind her. Unfortunately, the staircase she chose just started moving, taking her further from Gryffindor Tower. Unwavering, she marched up the stairs and rounded the first corner before sliding down the stone wall and sobbing into her hands. 

She couldn’t understand why her best friend was acting so horrid to her tonight of all nights. Hermione tried to catch her breath and slow the tears, but each time Ron’s angry face popped up in her mind and triggered more crying. She wasn’t sure how long she was there before a quiet voice interrupted her thoughts. 

“Hermione?” The kind voice, normally a comfort, made her stomach plummet. The only person she wanted to see less than Ron right now was Harry. Hermione hated when he saw her cry, hated making the bravest person she knew feel helpless. She pried her head up and saw Harry standing over her, a concerned look on his face. “I was just heading back to the Tower when I heard crying. Are you okay?”

“Oh,” Hermione choked back a sob, taking a breath to calm herself down. “Yes, just getting a bit of fresh air. The Great Hall was getting too overwhelming,” she sniffed, plastering on a smile and hoping he would go back to the Tower and leave her be. 

“Er - that’s good,” Harry replied, still awkwardly standing there. She began to feel self-conscious under his gaze, shifting uncomfortably and making the layers of her periwinkle dress robes crinkle. 

“I’m sure Pavarti is missing her date, Harry,” Hermione finally huffed, wiping tears from her eyes in embarrassment. 

“Somehow I doubt that,” Harry mumbled, taking a seat next to her. Hermione studied him for a moment before resting her head on his shoulder. 

“Did something happen?” Hermione asked, worried that her roommate did something to Harry. He shook his head quickly, wordlessly dismissing her fears. 

“No, nothing happened. I think I was the problem there. Did you not have a good time?” Harry asked as he put his arm around her and gave her a gentle squeeze. She took a deep breath in, finding comfort that Harry always smelled the same. It was cedarwood. The smell brought back the memories of every hug they’d shared, every time they’d studied next to each other in the library, every late night giggling in the common room, and one terrifying hippogriff ride. 

“No, can’t say that I did,” Hermione laughed without humor. Her night had been completely thrown off kilter by the argument, sucking the joy out of her fairytale moment with Viktor. 

“Did Krum upset you?” Harry’s voice was hoarse when he spoke, but there was no bitterness, nor fire, unlike her conversation with Ron. The difference between her two best friends astonished Hermione sometimes. Ron accused her of being a traitor by going to the dance with Viktor, and Harry asked how she was feeling, no trace of thinking she was the bad guy. 

“No, he was lovely,” Hermione said softly, looking up at her friend with a shrug. 

“So, Ron then,” Harry grimaced as he spoke, but did not look surprised. 

“Yes, _Ronald_. You were there, he said I was fraternizing with the enemy! He was on it all night, before I came up here he was complaining about how stupid he was, and how stupid I was and I just -” Hermione started to tear up again as she ranted. Cursing herself, she looked away from Harry down the hallways so he could only she her tamed curls. Harry sighed heavily. 

“Look, we both know Ron can be a git sometimes. I - we are just back on speaking terms and I -”

“It’s ok, Harry,” Hermione interrupted him, patting his knee as she rested her head on his shoulder again. “You don’t need to take a side.”

“No, it’s not that,” Harry placed his hand on top of her’s. “I mean, thank you, but no.”

“Harry?”

“Er - no, it’s just that you look nice tonight.” She rolled her eyes at Harry’s compliment. 

“Thank you Harry,” Hermione smiled goodnaturedly, thankful for her best friend no matter what lies he had to resort to to make her feel better. 

“I mean, you look beautiful. I didn’t even recognize you for a moment in the Great Hall,” he said, looking down at her now. “Not that you aren’t normally pretty,” Harry quickly added. “It is just, erm, you look beautiful.”

“Well, you look handsome too,” Hermione replied uncomfortably, hoping to move away from the false flattery on her part. Harry did look exceptionally fanciable, his green robes bringing out his eyes. She debated making a joke about how nice he looked in green, but thought better of it. 

“What I am trying to say is that I’m sure Ron felt like an idiot for not asking you early enough. I know I did,” Harry said, shaking his head a bit. “It would’ve been a lot more fun to be there with you, plus everyone wants to have the prettiest girl in the room on their arm.”

Hermione felt herself flush at the additional compliments.“I guess. It’s just - I am a person! I have feelings and wants separate from you both. I’m a _girl_ , not just a backup friend to be pulled out for dances.”

“I know that.”

“I know _you_ do.” They gave each other grim grins, both feeling weighed down by the events of the evening. As she looked at him, she realized Harry looked exhausted. She reached up and ran her hand through his hair, smoothing it as much as she could. “Thank you for checking on me,” Hermione whispered. 

“I’ll always be by your side ‘Mione, just like you are by mine,” Harry said back quietly, his face solemn now. She wondered if he was thinking back to their first year and making it through the logical challenge. 

Hermione pressed a kiss into his cheek as her response, just as she had done countless times over their friendship. But this time it felt different. Hermione suddenly wanted to turn his face and give him a proper kiss. Where had that come from? She thought she’d crushed the crush that blossomed after he saved her from the troll first year. 

“Let’s head back to the Tower,” Harry stood offering his hand to her. As she slipped her petite hand into his larger one, still rough with broom calluses from the first task, Hermione felt her heart beat faster. Enveloped in the smell of cedarwood, she rocketed back to the summer night earlier in the year, arms clasped tightly around his waist. The comfort of holding him was the only thing that kept her from a full-blown panic attack mid-air as they went to save Sirius. 

Kissing Harry’s cheek tonight was like skipping a rock across the surface of a still pond. That one small moment created ripples that surfaced feelings lurking right below the surface. She’d tried to bottle her affections by limiting them to acts of friendship, like reviewing essays for errors or bringing him toast earlier this year when most of their House was mad at him. But for her, it had always been Harry. Tonight she didn’t want to skip a rock - she wanted to toss in a boulder. 

“Harry, wait,” she said as she tugged his hand to stop him. Her mouth came crashing onto his 

He started for a moment under her touch before wrapping his arms around her and kissing her back. As soon as she leaned in, she had expected the kiss to feel awkward and chaste, like her kiss with Viktor when she accepted his invitation to the Yule Ball. Instead, this kiss was comfortable and easy, like settling into the common room couch and cracking open a book in front of the fire. After a few moments, they broke apart and looked at each other. 

Harry smiled, his face redder than his quidditch robes. Hermione smiled back, shyly intertwining her fingers into his. Together they silently walked towards the portrait hole, hand in hand and grinning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We love a Harmony moment, short and sweet. Hope you guys like this one! If you want more Harmony Christmas fluff, I posted a Christmas one shot called Unlocking Christmas Joy that you might like.


	5. Pansy

"Next time there's a ball, ask me before someone else does, and not as a last resort!" Hermione screamed back at Ron, twirling on her heel and stalking away from the red-face ginger. The sounds of the Weird Sisters performing in the Great Hall followed her up the stairs, drowning out Ron’s angry muttering behind her. Unfortunately, the staircase she chose just started moving, taking her further from Gryffindor Tower. Unwavering, she marched up the stairs and rounded the first corner before sliding down the stone wall and sobbing into her hands. 

Hermione couldn’t understand why Ron was so upset. “ _ It isn’t my fault that Viktor asked me! I’m my own person, not a backup option, _ ” Hermione internally scoffed between her sobs. 

“Find your own hallway to cry in, Granger,” a familiar voice cut into her thoughts with ice. Hermione looked up to see a surly brunette in frilly pink robes crumpled into the stone floor a few feet down the hallway. While Pansy Parkinson was mostly in the shadows, Hermione could see her tear stained cheeks and red rimmed eyes. “Did you hear me?” The girl sniffed back tears behind her impatient tone. “Leave!”

Hermione dithered, unsure what to do. She hated Pansy Parkinson, but Hermione wasn’t a monster. The thin witch went to the Yule Ball with Draco Malfoy and Hermione knew firsthand how cruel he could be. She sighed, begrudgingly allowing her concern to override her dislike for the girl. 

“Are you okay, Parkinson?”

“Do I look okay, you stupid mudblood?” the girl hissed, immediately dissolving any empathy Hermione had felt growing. Hermione picked up her skirts and struggled awkwardly to her feet, careful to avoid the edge of her periwinkle gown in fear of ripping it.

“No, don’t - sorry - I’m sorry,” Pansy whispered, hugging her knees to her chest and resting her forehead. Hermione stopped, crossing her arms over her chest. “I did-didn’t me-mean that,” she forced out between sobs, her dress robes muffling her. 

“Didn’t you? Don’t you always?” Hermione shot back, leaning into her irritation to avoid feeling pity for the bully again. 

“No,” Pansy sniffed, running her hands beneath her eyes gently to clear the tears. “I never do. I’m sorry, Hermione,” the girl said softly before looking up at her. 

  
Hermione was floored. This was Pansy Parkinson, for crying out loud. The Slytherin Princess and snake charmer who bullied Hermione and her friends. The girl who proudly flaunted her Potter Stinks badge and just laughed at Hermione’s growing teeth a few weeks ago. The girl who was dating Draco bloody Malfoy. This girl who had never used her first name, never said sorry, never been even the slightest bit nice. And here she was, apologizing to Hermione. 

“Erm- thanks, Pansy,” Hermione said tentatively, stepping closer to the girl. “I appreciate that.” Pansy nodded before staring back at her knees again. Hermione considered leaving again, but her empathy won out. “Would you like to have some hot chocolate? A friend of mine always says chocolate makes things better.” Pansy nodded and stood slowly, eyes still avoiding Hermione. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Hermione asked quietly as the two walked down the dark corridors. 

“No,” Pansy whispered. “Do you?” The witch finally looked back at Hermione, guarded, but no trace of the familiar cold hatred on her face. 

“Not especially,” Hermione sighed. If Ron thought that she was fraternizing with the enemy by going to the Yule Ball with Vicktor, what would he say to her confiding in a Slytherin? “Just - I feel like a cliche, crying during a ball.”

“Cliches exist for a reason. Idiotic boys making their dates cry at the ball. At least we both looked good while doing it,” Pansy shrugged. Hermione felt her eyes go wide at the unexpected compliment. 

“My date was lovely actually,” Hermione said after a beat, feeling the need to fill the silence left by Pansy’s casual nicety. 

“I forgot that you went with Krum for a moment,” Pansy muttered, shaking her head and causing Hermione’s anxiety to rise. She was sure Pansy was one of the people feeding Rita Skeeter information to the press and did not want to give her too anything else. “Merlin, Tracy was jealous tonight, you should have seen her face when you walked out on his arm. Really, you should have seen everyone’s faces,” Pansy said, smirking. Hermione recognized the expression so often on Pansy’s face, though this was one of shared humor rather than self-satisfaction. Hermione was suddenly much less worried about Pansy running to the press.

“I didn’t tell any of my friends who I was going with, actually. It was a bit of fun to see how surprised they were,” Hermione found herself smiling as she shared this, like she was letting Pansy in on some secret joke. Pansy chuckled a bit before becoming more serious. 

“If not Krum then who? Potter? Was he jealous you weren’t his date?”

“No, Harry would never,” Hermione protested immediately. “I mean, there is no romantic interest there. For either of us. But he’d also never upset me like this on a night like tonight.”

“Interesting. I just assumed he would be upset about not getting to take you to the ball,” Pansy said, and Hermione could feel her studying her reaction. Hermione just shook her head. 

“We were never together. He is just a friend,” Hermione said as they reached the kitchens. She opened the door and motioned to the confused Pansy to enter. “Come on.”

“How did you even know where to find this?” Pansy asked, looking around at the kitchen bustling with house elf activity.  “A lot of following the house elves around,” Hermione said casually as she shrugged. She turned to ask a house elf, clearly wary of her, for two mugs of hot chocolate. As the two witches sat down at a table in the corner, the two mugs appeared, whipped cream piled high on top.

“Feel better?” Hermione asked after they’d each had a sip.

“I can’t remember the last time I had hot chocolate,” Pansy said between sips. “Or any sweets, I suppose. Mother has had me on a rather strict diet since before Hogwarts.” Hermione fought the urge to wrinkle her nose and upset the delicate balance they’d created. Instead, she tried to relate. 

“I can understand that. My parents are muggle tooth healers, so they banned sugar. I only get to have it while I’m here. I’ve developed quite the affinity for sugar quills, but hot chocolate is always good around Christmas,” Hermione offered up, hoping to avoid silence. But Pansy only nodded, wearing a small pleasant smile. The two witches sat quietly for a few minutes as they drank.

“So was the person who did this is more than a friend?” Pansy asked quietly, watching Hermione again. Hermione shifted under the intense gaze of the witch, mildly reminded of the nature documentaries her father loved so much. Pansy looked like a lioness on the hunt and Hermione gulped a bit, feeling like the meal. 

“No, well, no, I - I don’t know. Ron is -”

“Ron Weasley?” Pansy practically spat out, nearly dropping her mug. “That is who is making you so upset?”

“Ron is my friend,” Hermione replied sharply, although she was surprised felt the need to defend Ron after he’d been so rude to her tonight. Pansy let out a bark of humorless laughter. 

“I can’t believe that you are upset over Weasley. You’re the smartest person in our year, you’re stunning, and you’re kind. You are the full package, Hermione,” Pansy said, pausing for a moment to give Hermione a pointed look. Hermione felt herself flush at the compliments and looked down at the table. “I mean, an international quidditch star asked you to be his date! If that doesn’t underline how far out of Weasley’s league you are, I don’t know what does.”

Hermione tipped her chin at Pansy and narrowed her eyes at her. “I don’t think of Ron like that!” Hermione protested, though even to her own ears it sounded weak.

“Sure, whatever you need to tell yourself. All I am saying is you deserve to be with someone who appreciates you,” Pansy held her gaze until Hermioone looked away again. 

“Do you want to talk about your night now? Was it Draco?” Hermione asked, hoping to shift Pansy’s attention, and severe observation, away from her.

“Not exactly,” Pansy sighed as she leaned back in her chair. Until she shifted, Hermione hadn’t realized how closed they’d been, practically leaning over the table. “Draco is - well he is one of my oldest friends. I will always love him, but I am not  _ in _ love with him.” Hermione stifled a scoff, albeit poorly. Pansy glared at her, crossing her arms and cocking a dark eyebrow. 

“Sorry, it is just that you’ve been all over him,” Hermione mumbled, embarrassed. 

“Noticed that have you? I suppose I haven’t been particularly inconspicuous. I’ve been trying to convince myself,” Pansy said lightly, examining her nails in that way Hermione had seen her do so many times while bullying others. In that moment, Hermione recognized it as a way to mask her own emotions, a way to look casual and indifferent while uncomfortable. 

“But we are young,” Hermione reached out and grabbed the brunette’s pale hand. Pansy started, but didn’t recoil from her touch as Hermione expected. She gave the girl’s perfectly manicured hand a squeeze as she said seriously, “you don’t have to date someone you aren’t interested in.”

“You don’t understand,” Pansy sighed quietly, taking her hand back. “My parents are trying to set up a betrothal with the Malfoys.”

“Against your will?” Hermione asked shrilly. “That is barbaric!”

“Yes, it is. But I’ll be disinherited if I go after the person I am interested in,” Pansy said, looking down at her lap dejectedly. It was such a different view of the proud witch than Hermione was accustomed to. 

“Is it because they are...a muggleborn?” Hermione guessed after a moment of thinking of reasons the pureblood could be disowned. 

“One of many reasons, unfortunately. There are certain things that just aren’t done for Parkinsons.”

“Wizarding society is so far behind on some things,” Hermione scoffed, smacking her now empty cup of hot chocolate down on the table in frustration. 

“What else?” Pansy asked, surprise clear on her face. It occurred to Hermione that Pansy likely knew next to nothing about muggle society with no muggleborns in Slytherin and Muggle Studies an elective. 

“Technology for one,” Hermione laughed. When Pansy only looked at her quizzically, Hermione launched into a rant her fellow Gryffindors knew too well. But Pansy didn’t groan or try to leave. Instead, she asked questions about the muggle world and, after gaining more understanding, suggested ways wizarding society could supplement certain ideas. The pair lost track of time talking until they were interrupted by a small voice. 

“Misses best be headed back to their dorms,” a house elf warned from the sink. “Else yous could lose points.”

“Oh goodness, it must be late!” Hermione exclaimed, jumping up quickly. When she tried to hand the mugs to the elves, they emphatically shook their heads and pointed at the table. Hermione put the mugs back, while muttering about house elves labor laws, causing Pansy to giggle a bit. Hermione hurried out of the kitchen and Pansy followed closely behind her. As they reached the staircases that Pansy would need to descend to the dungeons, the two girls paused and looked at each other. 

“Granger, thank you for tonight,” Pansy pulled Hermione into a hug. Surprised, Hermione fell into the hug and awkwardly wrapped her arms around Pansy’s middle. Hermione started to break the hug, but Pansy didn’t let go yet. Pansy leaned back, arms still encircling Hermione’s waist, and smiled at her. “You saved my night. Thanks for being so nice to me.”

“Erm - of course, Pansy,” Hermione said, still unsure of their new friendly dynamic. Hermione smiled shyly, arms still around Pansy. “You saved my night too.” Pansy’s eyes fell onto Hermione’s lips as she spoke, making Hermione’s stomach flip several times over. Hermione found herself looking at Pansy’s lips too - pink, glossy, and full. For a moment she wondered what they’d taste like, but she dismissed the thought just as quickly. Pansy, on the other hand, did not dismiss any notion of the sort. Instead, she leaned in and brushed those lips across Hermione’s. 

The kiss felt both like forever and not long enough. Pansy’s lips were softer and warmer than she’d anticipated. Hermione’s breath hitched as Pansy pulled away, her heart beating rapidly. All she could smell was flowers, no doubt Pansy’s expensive perfume. As the taller witch broke their embrace, Hermione glanced up at Pansy’s face, biting her lip as her thoughts moved at lightning speed. 

“For the record,” Pansy whispered huskily, “I liked your teeth before too. But you were the most beautiful girl in the room tonight, present company included.” Pansy smirked at Hermione as she felt a blush creep across her face. “Goodnight Granger,” Pansy threw over her shoulder as she sauntered away, gracefully walking down the stairs. 

“What just happened?” Hermione muttered to herself as she walked towards the stairs to the Tower, her fingers tracing her lips as she thought about what Pansy’s felt like. Hermione decided to head to the library first thing in the morning to see if a book there could help her sort out the thousand new feelings swirling around her head. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really enjoyed writing this one - I hope you liked it too! My own personal head canon has always been Pansy falls within the LGBTQA+ spectrum and struggles with her feelings vs expectations of her, so she takes it out on people. I have a Dramione plot bunny waiting for me and in it Pansy and Hermione have a convo about this. TBD on if I will be writing that at some point. Anyways, any thoughts/reactions very much appreciated! :)


	6. Neville

"Next time there's a ball, ask me before someone else does, and not as a last resort!" Hermione screamed back at Ron, twirling on her heel and stalking away from the red-face ginger. The sounds of the Weird Sisters performing in the Great Hall followed her up the stairs, drowning out Ron’s angry muttering behind her. Unfortunately, the staircase she chose just started moving, taking her further from Gryffindor Tower. Unwavering, she marched up the stairs and rounded the first corner before sliding down the stone wall and sobbing into her hands. 

Hermione stayed there, crying, until no more tears would fall. She wasn’t certain how long she’d been there for, but she knew she was out of bounds after curfew. Slowly she forced herself up, careful not to step on the edges of her periwinkle dress robes. With each step back to the Tower, she felt her anger rise. She was mad at Ron, but mostly at herself for letting him get to her. She was practically shaking by the time she reached the portrait hole. But just as it came into sight, so did a figure at the top of the stairs. Hermione froze, worried the dark form was a prefect waiting for stragglers. But when the figure began humming and swaying its head back and forth, her concern evaporated and she crept closer. 

“Neville?” Hermione asked quietly as she realized the mysterious figure was her sandy haired friend. “What are you doing out here?” She looked around, wondering if Ginny was out here too. 

“Oh, hi Hermione. I just had such a good night. I don’t want it to end,” Neville said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck and prompting Hermione to grin at him. He had taken off the outer black dress robes, leaning back on his hands in his white button down.“If I go in, then the night is done with and I’m back to being just Neville.”

“Do you mind if I sit with you, not just Neville?” Hermione asked, after looking between him and the portrait of the fat lady. 

“Of course not,” Neville smiled up at her and patted the stone floor next to him. “Don’t want your night to end either?”

“More like don’t want to go back to my room and get interrogated by Lavender and Pavarti about my date,” Hermione huffed and rolled her eyes at the thought of her giggling, nosy roommates. Neville let out a bark of a laugh, startling Hermione slightly. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her friend so relaxed, so comfortable in his own skin. 

“Did you have a good time with Ginny?” Hermione asked, wondering if the ginger was responsible for this small bump in the wizard’s confidence. 

“Yes!” Neville nodded emphatically with a grin. “I know she didn’t want to go with me, but she was a great dance partner. And she looked beautiful.”

“Neville, I know Ginny was thrilled to go with you. We got ready together and she couldn’t stop talking about how excited she was to dance with you,” Hermione said, gently knocking his shoulder with her’s. “I’m glad to hear you had a good time,” she said, looking down at her knees and trying to keep her voice cheerful as she thought about how poorly her own evening went in comparison. 

“Are you okay, Hermione?” Hermione looked back up at Neville’s wavering voice. He looked uncomfortable, but earnest. At her hesitation, he grabbed her hand resting on her knee and gave it a squeeze.

“Yes, I’m fine. Thank you Neville,” Hermione said quietly, squeezing Neville’s hand back. The boy withdrew it, leaning back again. 

“Did you have a good time?” He asked, watching her intently. 

“No, not especially,” Hermione sighed, slipping off her heels and pulling out her wand. With a flick, she let her hair down and ran her fingers through it. She relaxed into Neville’s shoulder, finally comfortable for the first time this evening. She could feel him freeze, clearly unsure about the contact. Hermione furrowed her brow, they’d sat like this in the Gryffindor common room before. Perhaps not in a few years, but Neville was her first friend. Although she often got caught up with Harry and Ron, they were still close. Just as she debated moving away from him, he brought him hand around her shoulders, dismissing her fears. 

“Is this about the row then? The one with Ron?” Hermione cringed. 

“Heard about that, did you?”

“Yes, I was getting drinks and I passed the entrance as you two were yelling. Not too hard to identify a Weasley by the yelling,” Neville chuckled. 

“Oh,” Hermione sighed, shifting uncomfortably. “I hope not too many people did hear us. How mortifying.” She felt a blush creep across her face at the thought of the entire school seeing her yelling at her best friend. 

“I think I was one of the only ones,” Neville said, looking down and giving her a kind smile. 

“He told me I was fraternizing with the enemy,” Hermione grimaced back up at him, still confused by how hurtful Ron’s behavior was. 

“He was being a right prat,” Neville scoffed loudly. “Er -sorry, just that, well, the whole school knows he wanted to go with you,” Neville mumbled softly, looking embarrassed at his outburst. He ran his free hand through his hair nervously. 

“What?” 

“You know, he wanted to, er, as a date. I mean, I understand having the girl you like show up on the arm of another bloke. It is a brutal blow,” Neville’s voice built again as he talked, sounding more irritated. “But you don’t go up to her and yell at her.”

“You don’t like Ginny then?”

“Oh, no,” Neville shook his head. “I mean, Ginny is lovely and I like her as a friend. But the witch I had hoped to ask, I couldn’t strike up the courage in time. I had it all planned out, how I would ask. But it was not meant to be.”

“I’m sorry Neville,” Hermione whispered, curious who Neville might be talking about. She felt rather confident in her people reading skills and was surprised Neville had a crush on anyone. “I’m sure she would’ve happily said yes if you had had the chance.”

“Maybe,” Neville looked down the stairs wistfully. “But she is rather popular, so I doubt she’d be interested in me.”

“If she got to know you, perhaps she would. You’re far nicer than any of the other boys in our year and exceptionally brilliant at Herbology,” Hermione said, frustrated at this nameless girl for not giving her friend a shot. 

“Thank you, Hermione,” Neville replied quietly, his face beet red. 

“What were you planning to say? When you asked her, I mean,” Hermione asked. Neville broke away from her to face her. While she was surprisingly disappointed by the loss of contact, his clear enthusiasm for whatever he was going to share pushed that feeling out of her mind.

“I was planning on bringing her a Passiflora edulis, it is a blue and white flower with the sweetest smell I’ve ever smelled. It’s got a beautiful bloom. But what is special about it, is the flower petals are a critical ingredient in wit-sharpening potion.” Neville said excitedly. Hermione loved listening to Neville talk about plants, to see his whole face light up on the topic. “She’s rather smart, you see. And the common name for the flower is a passion flower. She’s more passionate than anyone I’ve ever met. So I wanted to give her the flowers and tell her how much they reminded me of her, how brilliant I think she is, how spirited, how beautiful, how sweet.” Neville got progressively redder, unable to hold eye contact with Hermione as he babbled, looking down the stairs instead. He coughed into his fist before turning back to look at her. 

“Anyone would have loved that, Neville,” Hermione whispered, meaning it wholeheartedly. She had no idea Neville was a romantic. Studying him for a moment, Hermione realized how handsome her sandy haired friend had become since the first met. He’d shed a lot of his baby fat, though he still retained enough to keep his face soft and sweet. 

“Actually, I brought one with me,” Neville said as he reached into his dress robes and pulled out one of the prettiest flowers she’d ever seen. “In case I saw her, I thought it might be nice to give it to her anyway.”

“You didn’t see her?” Hermione searched her friend’s face, hopeful he'd reveal a clue about this mystery girl.

“Not at the ball, no,” Neville said casually. “I - I’d like you to have it, Hermione. I mean you are all of those things I just said. Plus it matches your dress robes.” Hermione felt herself blush, feeling hot in her cheeks and the back of her neck, as she took the flower. She twirled it between her fingers, looking at the beautiful bloom. 

“Thanks Neville,” she whispered, looking back up at the boy. He was watching her with a smile. She leaned over to press a kiss softly into his cheek. As she broke away, he stared at her, open-mouthed and shocked. “Not just for the flower. You made my night much better,” she whispered. Hermione grabbed her shoes as she stood. “And for the record, you should come back in soon. I like just Neville.”

As she walked to the door, she missed Neville lift his hand to his cheek, where her lips had just been. She missed the lopsided grin that broke out across his face and the happy sigh he released when he was alone. Instead she gazed down at the blue bloom, wondering how lucky the clueless girl who had captured her friend’s affection must be. Just before slipping into bed, she performed a preservation charm on the flower and stuck it in a small vase she conjured. That flower was the last thing she saw before she closed her eyes that night, and every night for the rest of her time at Hogwarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something a little different. As fun as a Neville Hermione kiss would've been, I am firmly in the camp of there is no way they'd find each other until after the battle. But it doesn't mean there is not a spark! Plus not all of these could end with a kiss. What did you think? How did Neville stack up compared to our other chapters?


	7. Ron

"Next time there's a ball, ask me before someone else does, and not as a last resort!" Hermione screamed back at Ron, twirling on her heel and stalking away from the red-face ginger. The sounds of the Weird Sisters performing in the Great Hall followed her up the stairs, drowning out Ron’s angry muttering behind her. Unfortunately, the staircase she chose just started moving, taking her further from Gryffindor Tower. Unwavering, she marched up the stairs and rounded the first corner before sliding down the stone wall and sobbing into her hands. 

Hermione tried to stop crying, feeling foolish for reacting so strongly to Ron’s attitude. She’d been having a nice time with Viktor and she let Ron’s jealousy over her spending time with Viktor cloud over the evening. “ _ Why can’t Ron just be happy for me like Harry was? _ ”

“Hermione?” Ron’s voice interrupted her thoughts. Unlike a few minutes ago, this time it was quiet and gentle. She turned her head down the hallway, refusing to look at him. “Mione?”

“What do you want?” Hermione hissed, angrily wiping the remaining tears from her cheeks and embarrassed he’d found her this upset over him. 

“I’m sorry,” Ron said softly. Hermione flinched, turning to look at him. The Ron Weasley she’d been friends with since Halloween of their first year was a hothead and an unprompted apology was nearly unheard of. His hands were shoved in the pockets of his dreadful dress robes, his gaze trained to his feet. She stared at the red shock of hair, unable to find the right words to react to his apology. He chanced a glance up and his blue eyes met her’s. “You were right you know, I should have asked you,” he continued sheepishly. “You’re the person I wanted to go with. I - I didn’t realize it until you said it just now.”

“So it wasn’t about me spending more time with Viktor than you?” Hermione asked shakily, craning her neck to look up at him. 

“I mean, it's bloody annoying that out of the three of us the only one who doesn’t care about quidditch is the one spending the most time with an international quidditch star,” Ron said, giving her a lopsided grin. “But no.” He offered his hand out to her.

“Yes, well it was nice to talk to a quidditch player about literature for once,” she said, slipping her hand into his. She was always surprised at how soft Ron’s hands were. She was certain Molly had taught him some sort of spell to protect them, given all the roughhousing and broom riding that should mar his hands with calluses. He gingerly lifted her so they stood facing one another. 

“Only you would find a study buddy in a professional athlete, Hermione,” he chuckled without releasing her hand. “Maybe you could invite me to your next book club,” Ron said as he gave her a soft squeeze. 

“So friends then?” Hermione asked quietly, looking up at him from beneath her eyelashes. 

“Always,” Ron said emphatically. “Fancy a dance?” He asked as he turned her hand over gently, the music from the Great Hall floating up the stairs. 

“Oh, I don’t want to go back down now. I’m sure I look terrible,” Hermione replied, tugging her hand back and wiping beneath her eyes again. For the first time in her life, she wished she’d listened to Lavender Brown and packed a compact in her handbag. She looked down at her feet, wondering if Ron would leave her here and head back down to the Great Hall. 

“Hermione, you were the most beautiful witch in the room tonight,” Ron said as he grabbed her shoulders. Hermione looked up in surprise and he pulled her in for a hug. “The entire school was staring. I didn’t even realize the pretty girl was you!”

“Oh thank you for that, Ronald,” Hermione said as she broke their embrace and rolled her eyes. She thought about storming off again, but something kept her rooted to her spot. “Even with Fleur there?” Hermione asked quietly, sneaking a glance up at him. Ron reddened, and looked away. 

“Well I’m not going to yell at you to dance with me,” Ron muttered. “But looking like that I reckon you could be part veela,” the ginger said, looking more like one of the mischievous twins than her Ron. But he was her Ron. Her Ron. 

“Oh,” Hermione breathed out as that realization hit her. She felt a heat crawl up her chest and over her cheeks all the way to the tips of her ears. She absently wondered if her face was as red as Ron’s hair as she grinned at him. “Okay, let’s dance.” Hermione stepped closer, grabbing his hands and wrapping them around her waist.

“What are you doing?” Ron asked as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Just let me,” she said as she rested her head on his chest. “Have you ever danced like this?” Hermione asked as she thought about how her parents danced in the kitchen when they thought she was upstairs, close and slow. 

“No,” Ron answered, his voice rubbing deep in his chest against her ear. “This is much better than dancing with McGonagall.”

“Thank Merlin for that,” Hermione said quickly, prompting them both to dissolve into laughter. “Did you dance with your date at all?” Hermione asked a few moments after they fell silent again. 

“No. I reckon she’ll never talk to me again. Probably Harry either, honestly. Tonight was a bit of a disaster for the three of us.”

“I think Ginny had fun at least,” Hermione offered, thinking of how gracefully Neville and Ginny twirled around the dance floor. 

“As long as it isn’t too good,” Ron said stiffly and Hermione could practically hear him narrow his eyes. She chuckled good naturedly, sympathizing with both Ginny and Neville over Ron’s overprotective nature. The song ended and silence took over the empty hallway. 

“I suppose the ball is over,” Hermione whispered, unwilling to untangle herself from her current position. 

“Suppose so,” Ron answered quietly, also frozen in his spot. Hermione sighed and slowly stepped back, mourning the loss of contact. The fluttering of her heart during their dance had been unlike any feeling from any contact she’d had with Ron before. As she stared up at him, she worried that their entire friendship had shifted in the space of a single song. 

“Y’know,” Ron started, his voice back to normal now. “There is this game I heard about from Parvati, bit like chess. Thought maybe we could learn to play it together?”

“Oh,” Hermione said, surprised at his invitation. “I’d love that,” she agreed with a nod, both happy their friendship hadn’t changed too drastically and a bit surprised at that empty feeling in her heart when she realized it hadn’t. 

“Next time there is a ball, I’ll ask you the first chance I get,” Ron whispered, holding her gaze with a serious look in his eye. 

“Deal,” she whispered back, her heart pounding again and that empty feeling fading fast. “Now let’s go find out what happened with Harry tonight,” Hermione said at a louder volume, hoping to cover the thumping in her chest. “Surely his date couldn’t have been nearly as much of a disaster,” she added, grabbing his elbow and dragging him down the hallway. The pair walked together back to the Tower, dissecting their night and smiling. All was forgiven, but things between them had just started shifting. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I’d end on Ron - figured we could give him a chance for redemption. Plus I thought this is something that could’ve happened in canon because they are back to normal the next day. This has been so much fun! I may add more chapters down the line if I am feeling inspired/people are interested in that (ie Blaise, Luna, Seamus, etc). If you’d like that, please let me know. Did you enjoy this series?
> 
> If you did like this and want to read more of my work, my major WIP is called What Do a Lion and a Wolf Share? It is a Dramione slow burn with a bit of a mystery. I’m also nearly finished with a Dramione Christmas story called Chestnuts Roasting Over The Open Firewhiskey. Find them on my page!

**Author's Note:**

> Not my characters, etc.


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